


Lost

by Officer_Jennie



Series: InkTober 2018 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Ghosts, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: The warrior Uchiha rested his forearms on his bent knees, his weight supported on the balls of his feet, while he studied the boy. He had a kunai holster strapped to one strong thigh and a gunbai on his back, three red tomoe visible on the tan material. His posture was relaxed but slack, as if he too had been running and running and unable to escape.His voice was deep when he spoke, rumbling in its authority, but there was no bite in his tone, nor anger in his words.“Why are you here, child?”Or: A young Shisui gets lost, and Madara the Friendly Ghost helps him home.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergence AU. Madara never suffered from the Curse of Hatred, and therefore never betrayed Konoha, dying in the First Shinobi World War instead of at the hands of his best friend. Due to the traumatic nature of his death (and the many horrors he witnessed in his life), he becomes a ghost, haunting the forests in and around Konoha. He is mainly seen by children, aiding them when he can.
> 
> Shisui is a lost and frightened boy, recently orphaned by the almost-war. He wanders into the woods and cannot find his way home.
> 
> A short fic for InkTober. Prompt: Lost. Written and edited in one day, because fuck it why not?

Shisui pressed his back against the flaking-rough bark of a large spruce, hugging his knees close to his heaving chest. No matter how much he tried to wipe his eyes clear, more and more tears kept spilling down his face and blurring his vision. He shut his eyes tight, pressing his face into the folds of his arms, shivering against the wet-chill of his own skin.

He didn’t mean to come here. Naori-oba-san had made him breakfast, rice and tofu and sweet eggs, and he’d gotten so angry - hadn’t meant to, didn’t understand why he felt that way, but he suddenly just couldn’t stay there, couldn’t sit there and eat with some distant aunt he’d only met a week ago, couldn’t stand how she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, the pain and pity she felt for him.

He didn’t want to see her too-familiar face, framed by long purple instead of dark black waves. She looked too much like her, but wasn’t, could never be because she was gone, they both were, gone gone gone.

He had wanted to go home, but home was quiet and empty and still. So he ran and ran, as fast as he could, far away from the compound where every face looked so similar but was never enough, because not a single one was who he so desperately wanted to see.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to go into the forest, especially not alone, but he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, too busy fleeing from where he had been. By the time he had calmed down enough to notice, he was deep in and surrounded by dark shadows, the trees too thick for him to see any sign of home or buildings or people of any sort. That, of course, made his heart race frantically in his chest, near painful in his panic. His mind played tricks on him, eyes wide and breath too shallow, too fast, and he did exactly what he was taught not to do: he ran further, scrambling to find a path, any sign of a way out.

Even after his feet were sore and surely blistered, legs shaking and barely holding him upright, he continued on, slowing his pace, sobs shaking out of his small frame. He carried on until he just couldn’t, and sat down. He knew he was lost for good and would never make it home now. No one was waiting for him anyway, not really.

He clutched the kunai he wasn’t supposed to have in one tiny fist, the dark-green ribbon wrapped tightly around the handle cutting into his palm. He was supposed to be strong for them - had to be, now that he was alone. But he had failed, hadn’t lasted even a week on his own.

His parents would be so disappointed if they could see him now.

The sound of clinking armor had his head shooting up, and he gasped. A man crouched right in front of him, a warrior, red-plate armor dulled by dirt and grime. He was so obviously an Uchiha - coal black hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, but he was near ghastly pale, far paler even than the average fawn tones of his clan - but Shisui had never seen this man before, and he would remember a man like this, all wild mane and fierce, burning gaze.

The warrior Uchiha rested his forearms on his bent knees, his weight supported on the balls of his feet, while he studied the boy. He had a kunai holster strapped to one strong thigh and a gunbai on his back, three red tomoe visible on the tan material. His posture was relaxed but slack, as if he too had been running and running and unable to escape.

His voice was deep when he spoke, rumbling in its authority, but there was no bite in his tone, nor anger in his words.

“Why are you here, child?”

Shisui tried not to cry further, tried to stay calm, but couldn’t help the sob that tore out of him. He wiped furiously at the fresh tears blurring his vision, keeping one hand wrapped tightly around his father’s broken kunai. “Mama and Papa, they can’t, I-I can’t…” His voice breaks off - he’s not entirely sure what he’s even trying to say, the tight feeling in his chest too heavy to think past.

The man seemed to understand anyway, a quiet sigh leaving his body. One hand pushed black hair out of his face, only for it to fall back immediately to cover his right eye. Soft leather, worn and aged, landed heavily on Shisui’s head, shocking the sobs away. He looked up at the man as gloved fingers ran gently through his thick curls. The man frowned, exhaustion written in the lines below his eyes.

“After everything, we still can’t keep the children safe.” He seemed to look through Shisui for a moment or two, more muttering to himself than to Shisui. Then his gaze sharpened, eyes focusing on the weapon in his too-small fist. “You know how to use that, boy?”

There’s a dark edge to his voice that made Shisui flinch. The older man seemed to notice this, the hand in his hair returning to its soothing pattern. Shisui hiccuped, his throat tight and burning from his grief, so he nods instead of answering, not wishing to appear even weaker to this fierce stranger.

Dark eyes narrowed, glaring down at the kunai, his mouth twisting down into a scowl. When his visible eye met Shisui’s once more, there’s hot anger burning inside. “How old are you?”

It took a moment for Shisui to remember how to answer, his throat constricting painfully, but eventually he squeaked out that he was four and a half. The soldier scowled deeper, pushing the short bangs out of Shisui’s face, staring into wide eyes. He seemed to be searching for something in them - what, Shisui wasn’t sure.

Whatever he found in them eased the scowl off his face, expression turning back to the softer, weary frown. “You haven’t seen battle yet, have you, little one?” It was framed as a question, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he removed his hand, resting his arm against his thigh once more before glancing around them.

“Do you know how to get home?”

Shisui choked back a sob at the sharp pain from the word, shaking his head furiously to fight back the tears. His eyes were puffy and hurting, his cheeks itched from the not-quite dry salt on them. The older Uchiha smiled down at him, the gesture more than likely meant to reassure him, but the smile did nothing to erase the tired sorrow in the older man’s eyes.

“I can help you, if you’d like.”

Without warning, Shisui launched himself at the man. He’s easily caught in strong arms, one hand rubbing small, soothing circles into his back, the other gently prying the kunai still clenched tight in his fist. The man’s deep voice rumbled through his small frame as the man murmured assurances down at him, resting a chin on top of his head, holding him close.

It took him time to calm down, to wear himself out even further, but eventually his sobs turned to soft whimpering and gentle sniffling. The grip he had on the man’s thick hair and black clothing relaxed, no longer white-knuckled in intensity. The older Uchiha pulled him back gently, pushing thick curls back once more before resting their foreheads together briefly - a familial gesture of affection, warm and soothing in its familiarity. The soldier stood up then, one hand reaching out in a clear offer.

Shisui accepted the offer without hesitation, holding tight to the hand that easily dwarfed his own. Though he was barely able to walk, worn out to the bone, he allowed the man to lead him onward through the forest, trusting him to take him home.

He wasn’t sure how long they walked before he saw a break in the trees, finally squinting up at the bright sun just above. He felt the hand holding his own squeeze gently - but before he can smile up at the man who helped him, a familiar voice cuts carried over to him.

“Shisui-kun? What are you doing here?” The surprised tone had him whipping his head around, wide-eyed, jerking his hand back to his side.

“Fugaku-oji-san…” Shisui stared down at his feet as Fugaku walked towards him, knowing he had been caught and was no doubt going to be in trouble. The Clan Head crouched down in front of him, posture so similar to the warrior who had just helped the small child - but where red-plate armor had sat on the warrior, Fugaku wore his usual uniform, the green faded on his flak jacket in places from use and old age.

Surprise quickly faded to concern, his voice stern and gruff when he next spoke. “What were you doing in the forest? You know not to go in there alone.”

“Oh! It’s okay, oji-san,” Shisui looked up then, a surge of excitement brightening his eyes. “I wasn’t alone, my new friend helped me…” As Shisui turned to introduce his friend, his voice trailed off softly. There was no one behind him, no one anywhere near them at all. The excitement leaked out of his body quickly, turning to sad disappointment and loneliness. He muttered about how someone “was just here,” but his voice was too low for Fugaku to catch more than the gist of what he was saying.

Fugaku sighed quietly, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to push back the aching pain behind his eyes. “Does Naori-san know where you are?” At the near-silent ‘no,’ he reached out to Shisui, lifting him up easily and resting him against one hip. The boy instantly buried his face into the crook of Fugaku’s neck, hands gripping onto him tightly. Fugaku brushed a curl out of Shisui’s face, taking note of the clear tear tracks and exhaustion written in ever cell of the boy’s body.

Despite knowing how tired Shisui was, the cop in Fugaku couldn’t rest - even though he was supposed to be on break, had walked to this rarely-trafficked field in a desperate attempt to quite his mind and rest his throbbing eyes. Shisui had mentioned that someone had helped him, but the Chief of Police hadn’t seen anyone with the boy, hadn’t felt anyone near them. Hell, he hadn’t even felt Shisui until the boy damn near appeared out of no where like some tree spirit.

Fugaku frowned and readjusted his grip on Shisui, trying not to jostle him too badly. “Shisui, you mentioned someone helped you.” A tiny nod against his collarbone followed a deep yawn. “Can you tell me who it was?”

The boy fidgeted in his arms, turning his head just enough to frown up at him through matted eyelashes. “I didn’t ask his name.”

At the sight of tear-filled eyes and a heart-stopping pout, Fugaku quickly tried to calm him down, nearly cooing at the child pressed tight against his side. “I’m sure he understands, Shi-Shi. Why don’t you describe him to me? I might know his name.”

Shisui described the man as best he could, in-between jaw cracking yawns, but all Fugaku could do was frown further, staring ahead of them as he walked back towards the Uchiha complex. A tired soldier with long hair and armor wasn’t much to go by. Even if Shisui insisted the man was an Uchiha, that still described a large number of men within Konoha’s shinobi ranks. All their men were battle-worn and weary, after all, with the exception of the police force, who were weary for different reasons - for now, anyway. Fugaku knew the war was coming, and no matter if they needed shinobi defending the city, they would need soldiers on the battlefield even more.

Fugaku eventually shook such thoughts from his head, sending an apologetic smile towards the boy near sleeping against him. He spoke softly, voice low. “Sorry, Shisui-kun, I’m not sure I know who that is. I’ll keep an eye out though, so you can thank him later.”

A yawn was his only response. Fugaku made sure to keep his pace steady the rest of the way home, Shisui’s breathing slowly deepening until it evened out completely. After assuring Naori of his safety, and getting silent directions to Shisui’s room, Fugaku placed him down gently onto his futon, tucking him in before headed back to the mountain of paperwork awaiting him on his desk. Neither of them noticed the battle-worn kunai tucked under the pillow, his mother’s green ribbon just visible from underneath the pillow case, blending into black curls.

 

* * *

 

Fugaku had never been a very superstitious man, never giving much thought to the potential existence of kami or spirits. That night, however, after a late dinner and a quiet evening spent doting on his very-pregnant wife, he found himself unable to sleep, staring up at the dark ceiling as he listened to Mikoto’s deep breathing at his side. Long past midnight, he finally slipped out of bed and slipped his lounging yukata back on, silently leaving the house.

He found himself following a path to the family shrine, shortly after lighting incense in offering for the first time in well over a decade. After a few minutes of silent prayers, he got back up and headed home, falling into a peaceful slumber only moments after his head hit the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> I head-cannon sane Madara doting on and adoring kids, but also quite clearly and unashamedly showing preference for Uchiha children.
> 
> Oba-san: aunt  
> Oji-san: uncle
> 
> Shisui uses the terms 'aunt' and 'uncle' loosely here; Naori and Fugaku aren't directly his aunt and uncle, more just older members of the Uchiha family that he shows respect to.
> 
> Questions/comments are appreciated and welcome!


End file.
